


No Other Version Of Me I Would Rather Be Tonight

by KieranVieran



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 70s Sirius and Remus find themselves at present day Hogwarts, Additional Warnings In Author's Note, F/F, F/M, Gen, Journalist Harry Potter, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Modern Marauders (Harry Potter), Nonbinary Draco Malfoy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Rebellious James Sirius Potter, Teacher Draco Malfoy, Time Travel, Trans Character, Trans Sirius Black
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-04-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:41:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21876766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KieranVieran/pseuds/KieranVieran
Summary: Hogwarts students Sirius Black and Remus Lupin sneak out of the castle one night. Not an unheard of occurence with those two. However, this time they vanish. Only to reappear almost 47 years later, due to time travel hijinks. An adult Harry Potter takes both of them in, and now they must return to a very different Hogwarts than the one they left. But that isn't necessarily a bad thing.(Not at all Cursed Child Compliant, with the notable exception of the supercharged True Time Turners because it's kinda foundational to this plot. Sorry.)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Luna Lovegood, Ron Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Seamus Finnigan/Dean Thomas, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley - Relationship
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47





	1. So Tired From Trying To See From Behind The Red In My Eyes

Sometime mid-November 1975, Midnight

"And why _exactly_ are we out here again, Padfoot?" Sirius grins, running slightly ahead of his boyfriend, before whipping around on his heel to walk backwards. "Because _Moony_, with James chasing after Lily and Peter leaving early to go to his cousin's wedding. We're all _alone_."

"It was his cousin's funeral, and he'll only be down in London a few more days."

"Maybe so. That doesn't mean we can't have a little fun while they're gone."

"What do you mean?"

Sirius smiles and pulls something shiny and golden out of his pocket. At first, Remus thinks it's a Snitch. But then, that would just be plain foolhardy as Sirius had gotten their brooms confiscated earlier in the term. He steps closer to get a better look and Sirius grins like a madman. It glints a little in the darkness, as Sirius raises it up for Remus to see. It's a Time Turner. Immediately, Remus shakes his head and backs away a couple of steps.

"How did you even _get_ that?"

"I have my ways. It was locked up in Dumbledore's office. Sat there in a glass case."

"We agreed you would get the Map back first!"

"Remus, you honestly think I wouldn't grab it too? Here. And if Minerva ever tries to nab it again. Now, we can go back in time and start that day over."

Remus makes sure he catches the Map as he really wouldn't want to go through all that work of making another. "Or go to the future and leave it for ourselves to find once we get it from her office."

"That too," Sirius replies amused. "Who knows? Maybe it already happened. We'd never know."

"That's strange to think about."

"A little."

They settled into a calm silence, so few times they could be alone. As much as they loved Hogwarts, it was undeniably a chaotic place. Remus chuckled.

"Penny for your thoughts, Lupin?"

"Oh, nothing really. Just thinking about how anyone on Earth thought it was a good idea to invent boarding schools."

Sirius also laughed. Then he realized something he'd forgotten. He was still holding the Time Turner with a loose grip in his right hand. There was that signature glint in his eye, what James generally referred to as Sirius' "Stareyes", Remus just called looking absolutely mad. It meant trouble but that wasn't always a bad thing. Remus sighed, not wanting to sound too much like Wormtail. "One trip and we're back in bed. Before anyone can catch us."

"Alright, _Mum_. One trip, I promise."

* * *

However, what this pair of Marauders didn't know, is that this was no ordinary Time Turner. Upon closer inspection and if they'd had better light, they would've noticed two things cluing them into the fact that this was a True Time Turner. It was inlaid with both gold and silver and was inscribed with the Malfoy family motto, which isn't kind enough to repeat in good company. That being said, a fool's errand often makes a good start to a journey.

* * *

December 15th, 2018, Around Dawn

It was deathly cold in Hogsmeade and where the pair of lovebirds landed in a deep snow drift wasn't convenient either. Because they landed right in front of Hog's Head, just underneath the open window. So much for not getting caught. 

"I thought we were halfway to the lake," Remus hisses through the pain.

"We were," Sirius groans, because landing directly on his bound chest was not anything approaching or even near fun. Worst date night ever. "Where'd all this snow come from? It wasn't snowing when we left..."

Remus sits up, still shaken but not as badly as his boyfriend. Chronic pain he can deal with, Sirius' adorable stupidity he can handle. Getting caught in Hogsmeade, off-campus and after hours that he can't abide. He drags his hand over his face to get the still-falling snow out of his eyes and only then does he see the sorta blurry looking figure coming straight towards them. 

Sirius hurriedly scrambles for his wand, but it's not in his coat pocket or anywhere nearby in the snow. Remus is too shell-shocked to do anything of the sort, much less realize his wand is also missing. After a while, Sirius stutters out, "James? You got _old_."

The figure said stepping forward in the light of pub's windows. "'M not James. But I am a Potter, now care to tell me how in the Hell you got here?"

Sirius frowned at the Not-James, but Remus was a little more forthcoming, mainly due to how freezing it was and unlike the newly disinherited heir of the Black family, he was just in his pyjamas. "Time Turner. We nicked it from Dumbledore's office." Sirius glared at him, nostrils flaring but he ignored it. "And it worked because while you do look a lot like Prongs. Well enough to be an uncle he never mentioned. You also have his girlfriend's eyes. A Potter **and** an Evans?"

"Smarter than I was at your age. How old are you? What year is it?"

"16," Remus answers because he knows he's way too out of his depth. "And 1975."

"'75 which means?" Not-James tries to do the mental maths but quickly gives up. "I'm 17, almost 18. I just look younger. Now, if you are a Potter, can we please get out of the fucking cold and go inside? Or at least Apparate somewhere?"

"Language but I get it. I can't take you inside because the pub's closing and I need to get home, but it's not like I can leave you here. So c'mon."

"In that case, where are we going?"

"Grimmauld Place."

"No, not there." Sirius shakes his head, and physically scurries back before jumping to his feet. "It's the only place to go," the Not-James Potter explains patiently and gently. "The cottage in Godric's hollow, well, it's unlivable. Long story."

"Back to my horror show family? Some Potter you are. Remus, we're leaving." Sirius replies gruffly, offering a hand up to Remus, before wandering further down the street. "Where are you going to go, then? It's freezing, you two are in pyjamas and you're wandless teenagers." Not-James calls to Sirius down the street, before shouting the sentence that has him stopped dead in his tracks, "It's two-thousand eighteen, Sirius."

"Oh, now you have got to be joking!" Sirius stomps back through the snow in the exact places his footprints were, getting face-to-face with Not-James. "2018?" Remus repeated with concern as Sirius studied the adult Potter's face for any sign or tell he was, in fact, taking the piss. None whatsoever. "Shite. You aren't playing us."

Harry sighed, "Afraid not. But from one Marauder to another, you really should come back home. It isn't what you remember and it'll just be until we can solve this mess."

"Alright, new Prongs. I'll trust you."

"Harry. Harry Potter. Prongs, well I think that name's already been taken." Not-James, uh Harry laughs to himself as if that were a funny thing to say but Sirius doesn't get it. A handshake seals the deal and they Apparate away.


	2. To Be Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning : Unsafe Binding Practices* (sort of, see below)
> 
> *While Sirius Black is technically binding with an equivalent to a binder. He's using a vintage 1920's flapper undergarment because the Wizarding World of '70s sucked and he didn't have a choice but to use a garment as old as his Granny. It's smart and still oh-so stupid, particularly as it didn't fit him properly. Now, he's time-traveled he'll get a G2CB or an Underworks after a doctor's/healer's visit to make sure he's okay.

"James! Jamie!" Harry stood in the entryway of the ancestral Black family home, now his own, by the looks of it, shouting his father's name up a staircase. It was more confusing to Sirius than anything else had been so far. Eventually, there was a running of footsteps from further down the hall and a younger boy with Harry's hair color but deep brown eyes appeared. "Arthur," Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Where is your brother?"

"Didn't say. He only said he was going 'out'. But Eliza's at Mum's though."

"Arthur Cedric Potter, when your brother comes back, if I find out you were covering for him... You'll both be in big trouble. Understood?"

"Yeah, okay, Dad. But I swear I don't know where he is." Harry nodded, ruffling Artie's hair and deciding this was a battle for another day. "Family meeting when Jamie gets back, alright? Don't care how late. After dinner if needs be."

Arthur nodded, bolting up the stairs before hesitating halfway and pausing to look at the odd teenagers, still completely soaking wet from the snow and in their pyjamas. Without even a suitcase. Must be new emergency placements. "They better not be Squibs this time. I want some friends to come with me when I go to Hogwarts next year. The last ones were nice but it's sad when we can't practice spells together."

Remus elbows Sirius, who quickly realizes the younger Potter was talking about them. "We aren't. Squibs. We just, uh, had our wands stolen." With that satisfactory answer, Artie smiled like it was a Christmas miracle and immediately rushed up the stairs. "Where's he going?"

"Most likely, he assumes you two are foster kids. He'll be fixing up a care package or two for both of you," Harry smiles. "With an eight bedroom house, ever since my divorce, I try to help where I can. I trust you can still find your way to the dining room. I need to write more than a few letters about your 'situation'."

Remus nodded, practically dragging Sirius along with him. "Thank God, she's covered," is all Sirius says he passes the giant portrait they both know to be inscribed W. Black (née Black). "I know," is all Remus can come up with to say and Sirius is so exhausted he doesn't really care.

Although, it does make him smile a bit to see how many things have changed in the place that was so familiar and yet so foreign at the same time. The moldy wallpaper his Father and Kreacher never replaced was gone. Minor things like less creaky floorboards, fewer cobwebs. But the crowning change and the one that probably has his mother most spinning in her grave, is in the dining room. And it's the most beautiful thing Sirius has ever seen. A new _electric_ chandelier, all brass and copper, with a depiction of a stag running around through a forest, circling the outer edge. "Figures Prongs wouldn't include any of us. Just himself."

"Don't be so sour. It probably wasn't meant to even be in the Grim. Fits more with the old dining set in Godric's Hollow, they probably brought it over when they moved in."

Sirius shrugs as they sit down. "Still, never thought I'd see the day. Light switches, _here_?" He gestures around the room. 

"Maybe his ex-wife was a Muggle-born. Or even a Muggle, you never know."

"Then how'd he inherit this place?"

"I don't know, _Paddy_. Are you asking me whether we have future kids or not?"

"Shut up."

A door slams. Sirius' hands instinctively goes for a wand no longer there. His hand twitches and aches as his body catches up to the idea he's defenseless in the one place he hates being most. Remus doesn't try to grab anything but he sits up a little straighter in his chair and grabs Sirius' hand to keep him calm. "Harry? Mr. Potter?"

"Why are you calling for my Dad?" A lad not much younger than they both were, presumably James' namesake finally showed. Dead tired and clearly nursing some bruises, including a black eye. "Watch 'im for me, Moony. I'll tell his Dad he's here." Sirius tells Remus before stalking out upstairs. He makes it to the third floor before realizing he has no idea what room or even what floor Harry would be on. Great. He stands there, feeling completely foolish for not knowing his way around his what was once his family home. "Looking for my Dad?" Artie reappears, seemingly out of nowhere. "How did you know?"

"The door slam. Happens a lot. Ever since Jamie was cut from the Inter-House Quidditch team last term. He goes 'out' with his friends a lot. Picking fights, comes home all busted up. One time he spit out a tooth." Sirius didn't know what to even say to that, but Artie seemed to consider it a fact of life and continued on, "My Dad's office is the attic. It's the very top floor, you can't miss it. Only spiral staircase in the house. Dad renovated the whole place up there after Uncle Sirius... Well, you probably know the story, most do."

"Right. I'm sure," Sirius replied awkwardly, further unsure of himself. All he did know is that his chest wouldn't be able to take it if he had to go up three more floors, still binding. It had been hours. His whole upper body was wrecked. "Artie, before you go? Is there a toilet on this floor?" It was weird pretending not to know the layout of a place he spent so much time in.

"Course. Middle door, right over there," Arthur said before retreating into what used be a bedroom turned art studio if Sirius remembers the family stories correctly. Sirius, meanwhile, he didn't waste a single minute, practically barricading himself into the bathroom with a convenient deadbolt lock. He stared at himself in Great-Aunt Roberta's turn-of-the-century mirror.

Alone, he winced as he unbuttoned and shrugged off his pyjama shirt, his coat on the coat stand downstairs. He forced himself to look up again and saw every part of his torso not covered by the '20s bandeau was angrily and painfully red. "Too tight again," he chastised himself. "That's what you get for using a French flapper's hand-me-downs." He peeled it off as quickly as he could get it off. A 50 year old solution didn't always work the best.

"Knock. Knock."

"Buzz off, mate."

"Okay. But I want you to know I got my Dad already and he's chewing out Jamie as we speak. If you want to eavesdrop with me? And new kid, no one'll really care if you're trans. Dad won't mind if we stop into Diagon Alley next week to get you a new binder. But I don't want you using that old French thing if it's hurting you. Okay?"

Sirius froze, _is this kid a telepath? or did I say that out loud?_ "Your Dad won't care if I'm me?"

"The latter. Genius, you were monologuing. And no. He won't. Look, dinner should be soon. I can grab you one of Jamie's old undershirts if that makes you more comfortable leaving the toilet?"

Sirius smiles. "You're trying so desperately hard not to make a coming out pun."

"I am. Undershirt or no?" Sirius unlocked and opened the door a crack, with a towel wrapped around himself. "Undershirt please."

"You know? Wherever you're from, Grimmauld Place _is_ home. And it has been to a whole lot of the Wizarding World since the 2nd War. Kids from all over, every level of connection to our community. From Squibs to so-called Purebloods. You can find a place here too. You seem like one of the tough ones."

"Tough?"

"Strong," Artie corrected himself. "I can tell. I'm going to get that shirt for you now. And even if I wasn't, your boyfriend's worried about you."

"How did you know he was my...? I didn't say anything."

"Because I can see and hear everything..." Artie says melodramatically, he still was nine, before running in the direction of his brother's room. Sirius smirks and thinks about the burned off face next to Stella Black elaborately written in cursive on the tapestry now hung in the dining room, and maybe, just maybe... The fact that Sirius Black was added right next to it with no one saying a word. That was enough proof that maybe the day had come this place was home again. He shall see.


	3. Offer Me That Deathless Death (Good God, Let Me Give You My Life)

"Feel better?" Sirius chuckles when he sees Jamie slumped on the second floor landing, looking awfully green around the gills. He was sporting fresher bruises on top of the ones from a few days ago. One of his wrapped up cuts is definitely a scar in the making. 

"Shut up. I'm fine. Just a headache. You see the other guy, and you'd be singing my praises."

"So why fight? Seems to me you have life made. Eight bedrooms, the basement and your Dad's office? That attic has insane views. Yet, you go underground and enter Muggle boxing tournaments?" Jamie shakes his head. "Truthfully? Well, mainly... It pisses _him_ off and lets me forget."

"Forget what? Christmas is in three days?"

Jamie scoffed. "As if you _don't_ know... What? Were you born under a rock? I am the firstborn son of Chosen One. Held to an impossible standard at all times. Huzzah."

"Eeh, I get the feeling." Jamie looks up at him, "You got a vice?"

"Not anymore. I, uh, used to smoke. Quit. My Dad drank. He was a mean drunk though. Never hit us but threatened to," Sirius sat down next to the eldest Potter son. "On top of it all, he was a Blood Purist. Right proud of himself too, the arse. Even thinking about him makes me want a smoke."

"Why not? He's in Azkaban surely and you're safe now."

Sirius grimaced. "Nope, by now he's dead. As for why I don't smoke... We're wizards, not invincible. Cancer kills. C'mon, because we're teetering on intervention territory, let's go eat. I can't remember when I had a home-cooked meal, let alone breakfast." James tensed a little, before relaxing again, and saying good-naturedly, "You aren't going to stop me from fighting. And at least this way, I doubt I'm gonna get cancer."

"Wouldn't dream of it. That's a choice you need to make," Sirius hauled himself up with some help from the banister. "Getting a tad preachy," Jamie huffs with a roll of his eyes that reminded Sirius of Prongs. He couldn't help it.

"Well? You won't get up and get downstairs. Like I said, food," Sirius pointed in the direction of the dining room with his thumb. "Food, indeed," Jamie finally relented and followed him down the hall. And oh, the sight Sirius saw there. It was enough to make him cry. More for a single weekday breakfast than he's ever seen in that dining room. As if that wasn't enough... The chandelier-stag circling, for just a split second, stopped and winked at him before carrying on. "Curses, Prongs," Sirius whispered under his breath. "What did you say?" Jamie asked him as they paused in the doorway.

"Nothing," Sirius replied and took a seat next to Remus, who was mid-bite through a piece of toast. 

"Look what the Kneazles dragged in..." The only girl at the table teased. She was a ginger with blue-green eyes. Christ, that made her look so much like Lily. It was uncanny. Remus stabbed him in the leg with a fork. That snapped him out of it. "Oww..."

Remus just shrugged, "You were staring, creep." Turning to Not-Lily, "Sorry for him, I think sometimes he forgets I'm not the only ginger on Earth." The table laughs as Harry ducks his head into see what all the fuss was about. Satisfied, no one was sword-fighting with levitating steak knives again, Harry retreated back into the kitchen, which must've been moved to the ground floor at some point. As Sirius remembered it in the basement.

"Elizabeth Luna Potter," she introduces herself. "Middle child. And you are?" Remus and Sirius looked at each other.

"Marius. Marius Black..." Remus elbowed him, "Marius Blackwell." 

"And you, my fellow ginger?"

Remus' eyes brightened. "Rhys. Rhys Trahaearn. My mum was Welsh." And in that moment, "Marius" was reminded of why Remus was definitely the best liar out of all the Marauders. He made it seem effortless. 

"Remus! Sirius! Do you want more pancakes?!" The Potter children shook their heads at them, as if they were expecting what their father unknowingly just confirmed from the other room. 

"Good effort."

"Nice try."

"Ehh... I expected a bit more."

"You weren't even... You just got here, Artie!" Sirius exclaims wide-eyed. "Still, I knew _who_ you were."

"Artie, your breakfast's getting cold. Come sit over here, with me," Artie scowled at Remus who didn't what he'd done. "Just for today." Artie stomped noisily around the long wooden dining table. He paused for a second to whisper something in his sister's ear before giving Remus one last dirty look before he finally sat down. Elizabeth just laughed and reminded her younger brother, "That's what you get for sleeping in."

"Sirius, Remus! I'll ask again. Do you want more pancakes?"

"Yes, please."

"Of course."

"Sirius!"

"Okay, fine. Yes, please."

"Thank you! Two more American-style pancakes coming up." 

Artie smiled, taking a big sip of his orange juice. "Where did he get the recipe for American pancakes anyway? I know it wasn't from James," Remus asked nonchalantly. But the mood, the tone of the room changed as soon as Moony brought up Prongs, a pin could've dropped. And Sirius had a good eye for these things. He had to, growing up _here_ anyway. Jamie shifted uncomfortably, before his sister interjected quickly, "Dad took some time off. Traveled. After Grandad passed and well, the divorce. Things were..." 

"Not good," Artie nodded firmly. Sometimes, a half-truth was better than the reality. The Potters knew that better than most wizarding families. Especially, well, after _everything_. 

Remus looked stunned although Sirius couldn't say he was surprised. Decades had passed, after all. A man who wasn't even a thought in James' or Lily's heads yet, had been old enough to take them in_ and_ have his own kids. Suddenly, Sirius felt very self-conscious. He remembered that Artie had referenced Uncle Sirius earlier. That felt strange, particularly when it was clearly about an older version of _himself_. 

He stood up from the table. He should be passed this by now. He scoffed a little. Not at anyone at the table, but himself. Sirius' life had just been majorly upended for the second time. At least, the first time had been by choice. Now, he didn't know what else to do but stand there. He heard Jamie but his words seemed vague. Hollow and distant. Like the first time he'd been called Sirius without it being an overly dramatized production on his mother's part. It felt right, but still not quite right enough at the same time.

"Pardon?" Even his voice felt muted. The cold, clipped tone too often used in this very room, at one of his mother's searing questions and father's taunting jeers. 

"I asked if you were okay." An older voice, then, not Jamie's. He turned and saw Mr. Potter, well, _Harry_ directly in his eyeline. No one (except maybe Remus, but certainly no adult) had ever sincerely asked him that before. Sirius slowly turned his head, keenly aware that all eyes still laid on him. "No," he barely mumbled before crashing. Sobbing.

* * *

He doesn't remember being taken upstairs. But as his next memory was indeed waking up, in his bed, upstairs. They must've, right? 

The room is quiet. He's alone. And it's hours later. Sirius throws back the mountains of blankets and even a handmade quilt covering him and pads to the nearest window still utterly exhausted. Sirius looks outside and his suspicions were confirmed. It was almost sundown, the sky the last shades of bluish grey before shifting fully to black. There was some irony to be had there. Sirius, he didn't want to go looking for it. He'd lost almost another full day yet again. To an empty room, he declared, "Hope you're proud, Mummy. Train wreck, I always was."

Then the door squeaked open, it was Artie. "I have some food. Gone cold but still... Cooking things on a coal range isn't my Dad's strong suit to begin with. Much less heating anything up. Sorry, but seeing as you haven't eaten all day..." Arthur Cedric Potter left the plate on his dresser. "Thank you," Sirius said to the thin air after he was sure Artie had left. 

"You're welcome," Artie responded through the shut door before quickly and actually leaving. It was the type of kindness, that Sirius didn't think he entirely deserved. He took the icy plate in hand and sat on the edge of his and Remus' shared bed, balancing the food on his knees, in the dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whelp, this turned out way sadder than I thought it would be. Comes with the territory of posting a chapter on New Year's Eve, I suppose. This time of year always makes me sadly self-reflective, y'know? And Sirius needs time to reflect and adjust anyway, traveling forward a few decades with no knowledge of what's happened in the interim. He needs a minute to pause and be alone. Then he can start moving forward. Well, now there's not much to say but... Happy New Year, everyone!


	4. As It Was (In the Woods Somewhere)

It wasn't long that very same night before Remus shuffled in, closing the door behind him. Sirius had cheered up, Remus knew, 'cause he was perched in the windowsill. Watching the dark grey clouds roll through... He sat with him. "My mother used to tell Reggie that, the sun when it was getting low, like this..." He gestured vaguely out the window, "That the sun was going to suffocate, if he didn't go to bed on time. That the night sky with it's brilliance of stars would smother his precious sunshine."

"Did he believe it?"

"He's Reggie. _Of course_ he believed it. Then again, he was _six_ at the time. And what six year old doesn't believe his Mum?" He shook his head. "Can't go to sleep now."

"You just woke up. That makes sense."

"I wouldn't want to. That's the point! Even if I could..." Sirius kicked up a fuss, tossing the cutlery that had come with his leftovers, aiming for the bathroom door at the far side of the room out of sheer spite. 

"Okay. So why are you angry?" Sirius looked at him as if it were a stupid thing, the most stupid thing he could've asked. "Fair play. Right. What can I do about it?" Sirius paused mid-throw of a fork and let his hand drop as he considered that for a moment. After a bit, he took Remus' hand in his and said, "Nothing. Except maybe getting me a Chocolate Frog or two on our trip to Diagon Alley tomorrow." Remus smiled and the encroaching darkness seemed, just for a second, to be less than suffocating. In fact, it was practically heartwarming, comforting. "Okay. That I think I can manage."

They sat together both awkwardly perched in the window-seat, barely big enough for Sirius to stretch his legs across. He'd pulled one of his knees up to his chest, to make room for Remus to sit, but his newly beloved navy blue Converse "borrowed" from Jamie, they were more than likely to scuff up the white painted wood. (They both know Jamie's never getting those shoes back.) 

"Green walls and white trim. Kitchen on the same floor as the dining room. Your mum would hate what Mr. Potter has done with the place."

"As she should. She always preferred this place as a tomb. Part of me wonders if she expected to be buried in the family plot or just sealed up here somewhere." He smirked morbidly. Remus rolled his eyes. "Gallows' humor was always your speciality." Then he shyly pulled Sirius' fingers back into his own, as he whispered into his boyfriend's ear, "It's terrifying for me too." As Sirius scooted back to give him more slightly room, Remus continued on, at a normal volume, "But there's not much we can do about it from here, anyway."

Sirius cringed a little, but exhaled in relief with a calm "I know." Then he added, "I'm sorry."

"What for?"

"Getting you stuck in the distant future. Not getting you home for the holidays. You should be in some small corner of Wales by now. Listening to your aunts and uncles and cousins speak a language older than even the Conquest."

"Hey," Remus said gently, "Half-listening, my Welsh is nowhere near fluent. You know that." He chuckles, "The way they talk about me. I get more grief for being English than I do for being a werewolf." A smile creeps on Sirius' face and he laughs, a quiet breathy laugh. Barely audible, but Remus, while he can't bring himself to tell Sirius, he finds it adorable. Attractive. Remus blushes, and for once, Sirius doesn't comment. He doesn't have any witty remark or glib retort planned.

And _that's_ how Remus knows everything is gonna be okay. They can get through this. They _will_ get through this. Well, that _and_ if his boyfriend was officially living up to his homophone, he was truly exhausted yet again. It wasn't a surprise when he when he finally extricated their interlocked fingers and sleepily dragged himself to bed, not bothering to brush his teeth, say goodnight, or even change out of the baggy, heather grey Hogwarts t-shirt he called his "pyjamas" now.

Remus paused for a second, shook his head, and promptly went down the hall to brush his teeth. Sun going down and everyone else asleep be damned. If the world ends because he accidently stubs his toe, waking up the whole house at one in the morning. So be it. "Bad enough my wolf's breath is so awful." Still, aw, who _fucking_ cares? He barely got a step out the door before he turned back and crawled into bed.

"Apology accepted," Remus whispered contentedly to an already sleeping Sirius.

* * *

The next morning was an absolute flurry of activity, as Sirius and Remus came downstairs. The entirety of Grimmauld Place was buzzing with excitement. Christmas shopping, with only a couple of more days to go before the day itself. Even Jamie begrudged a smile as he put on his favorite Gryffindor scarf, a hand-me-down from Uncle G, passing them with a muttered "hello". Artie, Artie, they had to dodge as he was still sat on the landing, utterly consumed by the latest issue of Wright's Wizarding Witticisms, a copycat not unlike the MAD magazines Sirius used to sneak home under his schoolwork. Eliza huffed as she levitated a laundry basket over their heads in order to get by without bumping into them.

Just another morning at Grimmauld Place, laughter could be heard emanating from the dining room. The smell of cooking wafting into Sirius' nose. All of it made his heart ache and his stomach growl. He raced past Artie and flew like a whirlwind into the dining room, almost knocking the fire-blackened French doors off their hinges. "Never one for anything less than a dramatic entrance, eh, _Marius_?" Harry smiled over his shoulder as he almost dropped his playing cards. "No, sir," Sirius said pulling up a chair to the intense match of Go Fish! between Mr. Potter and Nathan, the newest arrival to the house.

Nathan the American, a third year Transfer student from Ilvermorny, part of the Student Exchange Programme. At least, _officially_, on paper that is. He also doesn't talk much and doesn't get mail apart from the occasional letter from his older brother, Sam. Personally, Sirius can't quite figure out _what_ his deal is, but that's a question for another time. 

Sirius scoots out his chair, turns and gets up to head into the kitchen, shivering a little as he passes the old china cabinet Reggie broke the year before joining him at Hogwarts. _I don't know why I covered for him. _The window glass had been replaced and the wooden cabinet repainted a deep, rich cherry brown but that still didn't erase the memories for Sirius. The memories _Marius_ wasn't supposed to have. The sound of the glass breaking, Reggie's immediate sobbing, his mother's threats of "_You_, you could've _killed_ Reggie, my perfect, only son" and "Wait until your Father gets home".

Of course, it'd been easy to cover for him. When she'd instantly assumed it was his fault and forbade Kreacher from even _helping_ to clean it up. Sirius had spent all night picking glass shards off the floor that night, damn the Trace. "Marius?" Mr. Potter asked in his tone that was both too formal to be casual and too casual to be formal. Questioning that was the first thought that jump-started Sirius' brain. _When do adults pick up that skill? I mean I'm 18 and I don't have it yet. Am I not an adulting enough adult?_

Harry tried getting his attention again. "Marius, if you want breakfast. You're more than welcome."

"No, sir," Sirius muttered, turning back and grabbing an apple from the fruit bowl on the table, smiling a little as he took a peek and saw Nathan had the winning cards. He could still feel the scratches on the cabinet's surface buried into his fingertips as if he hadn't stopped touching the thin, jagged streaks a few moments ago. There were a lot more than scratches and nothing but scratches all the same. 

He heard Nathan's excited "Whoop!" as he sulked back down the hall. He smirked a tad more but still felt his right fingers twitching around for a cigarette, he took a bite of the apple in his left hand instead. 

"Long face?" Jamie smiled, wincing a bit from his broken ribs, _why he doesn't see a Healer_? "Itching for a smoke, can't have one. We're supposed to go to Diagon Alley later and I doubt your Dad would want me dropping a lit cigarette into the Floo Powder." Jamie rolled his eyes, despite how much it probably hurt as he got up off the sofa. Open floor plans Sirius also didn't understand. "The Floo Network isn't the only way out of here, c'mon. We both need some fresh air, you haven't left the house since you got here, and I know just the spot."

"Wait! I just got here. And what about the binder your Dad was getting me!?"

James held up his index finger, wordlessly before reaching over into his backpack and pulling out what looked like a brand-new, full-length white undershirt. _Is this a binder? _ "Gotta love Aunt Hermione, she's the one who Charmed my bag years ago. Although, that _was _only after I promised I'd use it to carry more books. That _never_ happened." At Sirius' blank look, Jamie huffed goodnaturedly, simultaneously grabbing the apple and shoving the binder into Sirius' hands, "Go upstairs, get changed. Any of my clothes you want to borrow. Then meet me down here in five. Oh, and see if _Rhys_ wants to come with, this is a surprise for you both."

Sirius had mostly certainly ran down those stairs faster in the past, but he'd never ran _up_ them so quickly. Jamie took another bite of the apple, it was a Honey Crisp. Good choice. Respect. He took a third bite of the apple.

**Author's Note:**

> I am writing this as a way to vent my anger and frustration at JK Rowling. And as a less than subtle way of reminding her that she no longer truly owns these characters, the fans do. She played her hand and revealed how much of a bigot she is, but guess what? I can fight back. 
> 
> I am a proud trans man and you will have to pry all of my headcanons and rewrites out of my cold, dead fingers before I give them up. (And yes before anyone asks, not that anyone would ask, all of the titles are/are going to be Hozier lyrics)


End file.
